


every stumble and each misfire

by rheniumvolution



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, passing notes, that's it that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rheniumvolution/pseuds/rheniumvolution
Summary: Hanzo takes a step forward. “You’re saying you don’t trust me, Gabriel?”“I only meant—”“It doesn’t matter,” Hanzo says. “You don’t have to trust me, you know. That’s not what this is about.”Reyes’ makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and goes still. Hanzo knows he’s said something wrong, but he doesn’t know how to backtrack.“Then what is this about?” says Gabriel, cold and sharp.“I don’t know,” Hanzo says honestly. “I was hoping you would tell me.”





	every stumble and each misfire

The first note shows up as he’s undressing after a fight. The showers are calling his name, and every muscle seems to have something to complain about. It falls out of his sleeve, and he’s not even sure how it stayed there to begin with. He picks it up anyway.

_Tell your brother my offer still stands._

Underneath the scratchy letters, there’s a doodle of a skull, which Hanzo thinks is a little on the nose. He’s not oblivious.

He drops the note in front of Genji’s head, which is on top of his folded arms on the table. “What does this mean?” he asks.

“Hm?” says Genji.

His brother eyes the note and then sighs, vents whistling quietly as they release steam. He hasn’t come down from the battle either, and they’re both a little wound up. Perhaps this was the wrong moment to do this.

“Ignore it,” says Genji. “Burn it. I don’t care.”

“What does it mean?” presses Hanzo.

Genji makes a soft noise, and traces the skull doodle with one finger.

“I was under Reyes’— Reaper’s command, when I was in Blackwatch. We were friends. When… when everything happened, he offered me the chance to go with him. He wanted me to choose him over all of this. I chose neither.”

Hanzo blinks.

“That’s when I went to Nepal. That’s when I met Zenyatta. But then Overwatch was recalled, and— I don’t know, brother. I thought that if I had you and Zen at my side, things would be different this time around.”

He touches the note again, and then shoves it away. “Gabriel Reyes is a good man, and he did what he did for a reason. I’m not denying that.

I just don’t know how much of him is left, and how much of him died in that explosion. Neither of us are the people we were back then. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take, not when I have reasons to remain where I am.”

As if summoned, Zenyatta rounds the corner and Genji stands. They move in sync, practice and familiarity in their motions as they greet each other warmly. Hanzo feels something twinge in his chest. It feels bittersweet.

For some reason, Hanzo keeps the note.

—

The second one he finds in a book. It is not directed at him. The book is called _The Gingerbread Cowboy_ , and it looks like something you’d read to a child. Hanzo opens it cautiously, suspicious about its almost reverent placement amongst the other strategy and historical books Overwatch keeps on hand.

Inside the cover, on the very first page, is familiar handwriting.

_Thanks for not being dead. That would have been a helluva explanation to give Morrison. This was Fareeha’s favorite. Take care of ~~yourself~~ it._

Underneath is a doodle of a boot with spurs on it. They look eerily familiar. Hanzo takes the book, and doesn’t bother trying to come up with an explanation for himself. Nobody needs to know.

The next day, he runs into McCree in the hallway. They nod to each other, and that’s it. Or it would be, if McCree’s boots didn’t jingle slightly as he side-stepped out of Hanzo’s way. The spurs catch the light, and Hanzo blinks and does not move.

“Can I help you?” Jesse asks.

“You’re the Gingerbread Cowboy,” says Hanzo. He flinches.

Jesse’s voice is at once shaky and cold. “Excuse me.”

“I found— there was a book. In the library. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You found it?” asks Jesse. There’s an expression on his face that Hanzo doesn’t examine too closely, because he doesn’t need to. The pain is evident, layered and complex and distant, and he understands. He felt that way for a long time.

“I— do you want it?” Hanzo asks.

Jesse goes quiet. He looks almost… guilty. Hanzo remembers that Gabriel Reyes is supposed to be the bad guy. They are not supposed to casually discuss the gifts he gave his recruits when he was still—

When he was still what? Here? Alive? Whole?

The question, he realizes, may not have been entirely fair of him to ask.

“It’s alright,” he says. “I don’t mean to press, and I have it, anyway. It’s in my room. If you want it, or if you just want to see it, it’ll be there.”

McCree nods, just once, and Hanzo turns to leave.

“Hey, Hanzo?” says Jesse. “Thanks.”

Hanzo nods back, “Anytime, Cowboy.”

—

They keep coming: taunts and insults and questions, and Hanzo keeps them on top of his desk for no particular reason. He doesn’t reply, because he’s supposed to be coming up with ways to kill Gabriel Reyes, not tell him about his day, but—

But.

There’s something in the tone of these notes that makes Hanzo’s chest feel like it’s filling up with the first clean air he’s had in years. Gabriel Reyes doesn’t care if he’s guilty, doesn’t care if he hates himself, doesn’t care if Hanzo knows he’ll never be good enough to win the approval of anybody who is supposedly on his team.

And if he did, Hanzo doesn’t think Gabriel would hate him for it.

He might understand.

So he keeps the notes, and he lets Gabriel make him smile even when nobody can see it, and he doesn’t reply. He won’t reply.

There are some lines even he won’t cross.

—

The note is tucked under his window. It’s written on thick cardstock, ivory and gilded in gold leaf. The design is intricate and expensive looking. Gabriel’s chicken-scratch handwriting takes up the entire post-card sized piece.

_Missed me._

Hanzo slams the paper down on his desk next to the first note and the book, and goes next-door to Zenyatta’s room.

“Hanzo!” Zenyatta says. “Genji is currently resting, but I can wake—”

“It’s fine,” Hanzo mumbles. “I just have a question.”

Zenyatta claps his hands together, evidently delighted at the company. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Hanzo takes a deep breath. “Do you have any paper?”

—

_I never miss._

He fastens the note to an arrow, and aims it directly at Reapers face. He waits until he’s got his attention, until they’re looking at each other, and the battle grows muffled and far away. He looses the arrow.

Reaper catches it.

He’s done it before, but usually he just tosses them aside. Sometimes he breaks them, Hanzo assumes, just to be an ass. This time, he twirls it in his hand. He laughs. Then, he says something Hanzo can’t hear from his perch, and the rest of the Talon fighters remove themselves. They leave.

Gabriel steals his arrow.

“What,” says Genji, standing behind him, “did you just do.”

Hanzo blinks in the direction Talon’s vehicles went. The Overwatch agents are all looking as confused as Hanzo feels.

“I— I don’t know.” He looks at his brother and lets the smile break across his face. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Great,” says Genji. “Super glad to hear that. Really, I’m thrilled.”

“Brother,” says Hanzo, “shut up.”

“What? Can’t you tell by my face?”

—

The note is on his windowsill the very next day.

_How sweet of you to let me live._

He grins when he reads it, and he doesn’t even know why. It sits on his desk for the rest of the day, and he reads it a few more times, just to make sure it’s real.

Jack Morrison calls a meeting and looks disappointed. He drones on and on about how Talon must have pulled back yesterday because they’re planning something bigger. They’re doing something more evil and diabolical than anyone could ever imagine. Hanzo listens for approximately thirty seconds, then watches Hana and Jamie play tic-tac-toe on their datapads. Hana wins.

He leaves his response where Gabriel left his before he goes to sleep. There’s something in him that’s screaming about protocol, and safety, and how odd it is that he’s more than alright with this man he hardly knows seeing him sleeping through his window. He shoves that part of him under some old blankets.

_I guess you simply owe me one._

—

Gabriel’s response doesn’t come for three days. Hanzo spends most of that time on the range. Jesse comes by to see the book, trace over the letters with his flesh and blood hand, then swears under his breath and leaves without another word.

Hanzo doesn’t go after him.

Instead, he goes to see Dr. Ziegler.

“Is Gabriel Reyes dead?” he asks.

She drops her clipboard.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I should go—”

“No!” she says. “No, it’s quite alright. I just, well. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Hanzo looks down. “I don’t think I was, either.”

Angela smiles at him not unkindly. “Sometimes the most important questions are the ones we’re too afraid to ask,” she says. “What would you like to know?”

They talk for a few hours, and drink for most of that time. He leaves her office knowing more about Overwatch’s dirty little secrets, and tipsier than he has been in some time. But it’s good. He feels good. He thinks.

There’s a letter on his windowsill when he goes back to his room. His throat feels tight.

_What do you want?_

—

He’s pretty sure this is a mistake. He’s pretty sure this is officially considered fraternizing with the enemy. He’s pretty sure if someone of high enough rank caught him doing this, they’d throw him out of Overwatch by his ear, and he’d have to deal with Genji’s disappointed sighs for the rest of his life.

Gods above. When did Genji become the stable one?

He paces back and forth for a few hours. He goes back to the range. He spars with McCree. Then with Zarya. Then with Lena. He practices until his muscles are screaming and his brain is mush. When he comes back to his room, his response is still sitting on his desk. He stares at it.

His tattoo tingles, and he can feel each and every one of his ancestors judging him. He picks up the paper. He never liked his ancestors anyway.

—

_What are you willing to give me?_

—

The next day, Morrison sends him, Genji, and Lena on a mission that is expected to take one week. Instead, it takes three and a half, and Hanzo spends all of that time wondering if he’s lost whatever window of opportunity he may have pried open for himself.

Then he gets back, and he hasn’t.

—

“What are you doing here?”

The voice seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, but Hanzo doesn’t panic. He doesn’t even draw an arrow.

“You’re late,” he says, instead. “I’ve been here for almost ten minutes.”

Gabriel melts out of the shadows at his left, but doesn’t move forward. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”

He sounds genuine enough, but Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “I got back from a month long undercover mission two days ago, and there was a note tucked in my pocket yesterday morning, and you didn’t think I’d at least come see what you wanted?”

Gabriel has the good sense to shrug a little sheepishly before his spine straightens. “You’re still one of _the good guys_ ,” he says distastefully. “I wouldn’t hold you to anything, really.”

Hanzo takes a step forward. “You’re saying you don’t trust me, Gabriel?”

“I only meant—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hanzo says. “You don’t have to trust me, you know. That’s not what this is about.”

Reyes’ makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and goes still. Hanzo knows he’s said something wrong, but he doesn’t know how to backtrack.

“Then what is this about?” says Gabriel, cold and sharp.

“I don’t know,” Hanzo says honestly. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

“Is that what you’re asking for? An explanation?” Reyes seems almost amused, but he’s still holding himself at a distance, and Hanzo knows that they don’t know each other. He knows they aren’t close, aren’t friends, aren’t— aren’t _anything_ , really, but.

But he thought they could be.

“Why’d you leave the first note?” he asks.

Gabriel shrugs. Darkness swirls around him like fog. “You were the easiest link to Genji I had.”

“And the second?” asks Hanzo.

“You’re… interesting.”

“And every one after that?”

Gabriel sounds like he’s smiling. “You continued to be interesting. Why did you finally respond?”

Hanzo looks at him. He looks and looks and looks, and Gabriel lets him. “I don’t know,” he says. “I wanted to.”

“It was a bad plan to start with,” says Gabriel. “What would happen if your supervisors found out about this little… rendezvous?”

“Gods,” says Hanzo, “do you always talk like this?”

“Excuse me?”

He takes a half-step towards Gabriel, and wonders what would happen if he left. Probably nothing. He might as well stay.

“What was my brother like, when you knew him?” He may as well start with one of the few things they have in common, and the only other one he can think of is the destruction of the things they hold dear, which is really more a conversation for the second date and—

Oh.

His face must have given something away, because Gabriel doesn’t laugh at the question. “Angry,” he says, “and sad, and confused. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If it’s the truth, then yes.”

“Come on, Hanzo,” says Gabriel, “I’m sure you can come up with something much more entertaining for us to discuss.”

Hanzo lets the corner of his mouth tilt up into a smirk. “My parents want me home by midnight.”

Gabriel laughs, honestly laughs, and Hanzo lets his smirk become a full smile. They stare at each other. The tension from earlier is gone. This is the Gabriel Reyes who left him notes on his windowsill for weeks, this was the person he came to see.

“Am I part of your teenage rebellion?” asks Gabriel.

Hanzo pretends to consider. “Something like that, yes.”

—

They’re in Hanamura. Nothing has changed, Hanzo is pretty sure. Even the air smells the same as it did when he was a child. He and Genji avoid each other. Not because they’re reverting back to the early days of their reunion, but because being here makes old wounds feel too fresh. It’s better for both of them to simply wait until they’re away from this place, those choices.

He doesn’t know how Gabriel knows where he is, but he’s glad for it.

_Roof. 01:00._

—

“I thought Overwatch would have better security than this,” he says.

Gabriel turns to face him. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be the security.”

Hanzo smiles. “Huh. Look at that.”

—

“Can you take the mask off, or do I have to kiss you over it?”

They’re in a bar a few blocks away from where Hanzo used to go to get street food after lessons, and he is officially drunk. Very drunk. Drunk enough to ask that question. It’s late enough—early enough?—that the two of them could tuck themselves into a corner booth with their drinks, and nobody asked any questions about their outfits.

Reyes looks at him silently. “Holy shit,” he says, “you’re trashed.”

“No,” says Hanzo. “I mean, yes. But it’s a serious question. I don’t want you to think I don’t want to kiss you. And it’s a nice mask. Good mask. I’d kiss it, if I had to.”

“Does Sober Hanzo want to kiss me, too?” asks Gabriel.

Hanzo smiles, because he’s drunk, and grabs Gabriel’s hand, because he’s drunk. “Every Hanzo wants to kiss you,” he says, as seriously as possible.

“I can take the mask off,” says Gabriel, and Hanzo’s heart speeds up so quickly that he’s pretty sure it stops completely, “tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

Hanzo makes a pitiful noise, and thunks his head onto the table. Gabriel touches his hair so softly that Hanzo’s not even sure it’s actually happening.

—

When he wakes up, there’s no note on his windowsill. This is probably because Gabriel Reyes is asleep on a chair in the corner of the room.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hanzo says, and Gabriel blinks himself awake. “You really shouldn’t be here. What if someone tries to come check on me?”

Gabriel waves his hand, “They’d have to knock anyway. Also, I’d just pretend like I was trying to kill you and let them chase me off.”

Hanzo flinches. It’s a sharp reminder of the repercussions of… whatever it is that they’re doing. He doesn’t want to continue this topic of conversation. He already turns it over and over in his own head, he doesn’t need Gabriel pointing it out, too.

“You still have your mask on,” he says, in lieu of anything else.

“Didn’t want you to wake up and think you’d stumbled into another nightmare,” says Gabriel.

Hanzo just raises an eyebrow.

“You’re sure?” asks Gabriel.

“I’m sure,” says Hanzo.

Gabriel takes his mask off.

It’s hard to process at first, but only because he’s just woken up. It’s… not horrifying. There’s smoke, like the edges of Gabriel are having trouble being contained. Like he’s spilling over, here and not-here all at once. It almost makes him hard to look at, but Hanzo is determined. His eyes are red, bright red, and they don’t blink, from what Hanzo can tell. He bares his teeth, and the rows of pointed fangs make something in Hanzo shiver, and not in a bad way.

“It gets worse,” says Gabriel, “when I haven’t eaten.” His voice without the mask is just as raspy and low, but the mechanical edge to it is gone.

“Come here,” says Hanzo. “Gods, just—”

And then Gabriel is kissing him, and Hanzo thinks he wouldn’t care if Gabriel had seven eyes and a second head if he keeps holding him like that.

Gabriel’s straddling his lap and Hanzo knows this is bad, this is a bad plan, this is only going to get them both hurt and— and then Gabriel drags a clawed hand up Hanzo’s neck and tugs on his hair and Hanzo stops thinking much of anything at all.

After a while, Gabriel pulls away. “I have to go,” he says, and his voice is somehow even lower. “We have a date later today.”

Hanzo blinks. “We have a what?”

Gabriel grins. “Talon’s gonna try and get their hands on a supplier of advanced weaponry here in Hanamura. Someone I think you and yours have a meeting with at sundown.”

“Oh,” says Hanzo. “Fuck.”

“Wish I could,” says Reyes, and Hanzo tightens his grip on Gabriel’s hips, “but some of us have jobs to do.”

He’s halfway out the window before Hanzo can think to ask him to stay, mask and jacket on before Hanzo can look at him again, drink his fill of Gabriel’s face and arms and voice.

“And Hanzo?”

They lock eyes and Hanzo can swear he can see through Gabriel’s mask to the smirk underneath.

“Don’t miss.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my soulmate and is entirely self-indulgent! never written hanzo before, hope i did him justice :)
> 
> hmu at tumblr or twitter (@liminalwitch) with questions, comments, concerns, or requests! 
> 
> unbeta'd, lmk if there are any errors!


End file.
